


The Nutcracker Ballet

by KoroMarimo



Category: Hellsing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Ballet, Child Neglect, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 15:22:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12213552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoroMarimo/pseuds/KoroMarimo
Summary: You spent years chasing after her affection. Now, the roles are reversed, and Sir Integra only has this one shot at the ballet to say what she should have many years ago.





	The Nutcracker Ballet

Integra never had the experience for these types of gatherings sans protection. The theater, art museums and the like bored her greatly, the stasis making her nervous because there was no business transpiring, no exchange of ideas or conversation. Nothing at all that was relevant or logically connected to her work.

She never would admit it outright, but she would have gone through hell and back if it meant a chance at reclaiming your favor.

Once upon a time Sir Integra had been Mommy, a cold and stoic superhero who could do anything except give you a simple hug, who spared you the dread of meeting other kids in school and taught you at home. Nowadays she had been downgraded, demoted to Mother, a neglectful and emotionally abusive tyrant who couldn’t so much as look you in the eye.

“I’m not going to bother inviting Mother.” You had told Seras last week when your never aging nanny had asked if Sir Integra was going to be graced with a ticket to your performance, “I don’t register on that woman’s radar, it took me ten years to figure that out and I’m not going to waste my time any longer.”

“My little darling Ambrose was positively crushed that she wouldn’t get a shot at multiple parts this year!”

A puffed up rich woman in diamonds and honest to God mink fanned herself with a program and snapped Integra out of her thoughts, what could only be assumed as the woman’s husband was dressed up in a tuxedo looking as though it had seen better days. He coughed importantly beside her, hardly able to speak among the din of excitement that came during the first few minutes before the overture. Good lord… Were these the sort of parents you had to endure every performance?

“Some little clod has been taking up all the good parts, and Ambrose nearly had to beg the Madame for a small part in the play. Her friend Alexis was barely able to make Sugar Plum Fairy, and even then that wretched girl still managed to gain alternate Sugar Plum and Cavalier!”

“A girl Cavalier?! What nonsense, who is this person?” spoke the husband.

“Some strange named thing, Hell something or other. Fitting considering she most likely comes from hell for taking away my Ambrose’s biggest dream away from her!”

It had to be you… Sir Integra was certain. The program she held in her lap scraped against the sequins of her cocktail dress as she flipped through the pages. Finally coming to the cast list, she looked up the names, cursed alphabetical order. She found the surname easily.

Hellsing as Party Company.

Hellsing as Herr Drosselmeyer Alternate.

Hellsing as Mirliton.

Hellsing as Archangel.

Hellsing as Flower.

Hellsing as Sugar Plum Fairy Alternate.

Hellsing as Cavalier Alternate.

Hellsing as everything short of the damned orchestra.

When the orchestra’s din silenced and the house lights dimmed on the wealthy London society, a cacophony of clapping and cheers overtook the silence, the conductor bowing once before silence again overtook with a wave of his hand as he directed the orchestra during the overture. It was a long while before the dancers overtook the stage and mystified the audience with their choreography before she saw you dancing elegantly with a gentleman who had to at least be ten years your senior.

Integra’s breath hitched in her throat. She leaned forward and adjusted her glasses to make sure it wasn’t just a trick of the light, but inside she knew it was you. Time and the dancers and the festivity of The Nutcracker melted away until there was just you, her child, gaping at an artificial Christmas tree, being surprised by Herr Drosselmeyer’s grand entrance, clapping silently in mock delight for dolls and toys that danced and became real in your imaginary world. She had never seen such happiness on your face, not since the days she had been christened as Mommy and worshipped with the fervent devotion of youth.

And the way you danced! Such grace and delicate footwork… The whole two hours of the production passed by as in a dream. She didn’t fidget nor become restless during intermission. Instead Sir Integra remained planted in her seat until the second act where you would have many more roles to fulfill.

The production was over before she knew it, and she quickly gathered her things before running out to the first floor where the dancers would be exiting in their sequined costumes.

It wasn’t hard to find you. A crowd of young ladies surrounded you jabbering incessantly, pulling you in for hugs and the occasional kiss, fawning and floundering over your successful night of dancing.

“Of course you’re taking me to Nutcracker Tea tomorrow right? It will be such a fun after party once the two o’clock showing is done.” asked a young girl, eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings.

“Nonsense Ambrose! She’s taking me as her date to Nutcracker Tea! You’d only embarrass her.” argued another, issuing sounds of protestation from all of the other girls. You were about to speak when you caught sight of Sir Integra, standing there awkwardly among the din of the other parents who were waiting to get a glimpse of their own dancers. The girls had broken away when they saw you approach her, oddly quiet. They must have known. A few looked worried and keen on pulling you back into their warm comforting circle.

“… Hello Mother.” You said quietly. Unsure. Awkward as she was.

“I saw everything.” She said rather stupidly.

“Did you?” you replied, “I gave the ticket to Seras…”

“She gave it to me. You…”

She stepped forward. Among all the happiness around you the awkward silence kept a good job of blocking out other’s happiness. Sir Integra stood directly in front of you now. Still unsure as to how she could express in words the beauty she didn’t know you possessed. Wanted to tell you how she felt, if she could even put it into words. What was it called? Such a foreign emotion that she hadn’t known in all her years of living, in the eighteen years that Alucard had been gone. What was it…

“I am… Proud.” She finally managed.

Your eyes widened. The floor captured your gaze and you glanced down at it, looked back towards Ambrose and Alexis and all the other girls who didn’t seem to know how to help you in this situation.

What came next though caught her just as off-guard.

“Thank you… mom.”

Maybe not quite the level of Mommy. Maybe just the slightest bit above Mother. But at the very least she was Mom, a person who had not known until now what sort of talents you had hidden from her. At the very least an equal who could offer a ride and a nice meal before heading back to the cold, newly rebuilt Hellsing manor where perhaps you would go your separate ways: You to your room, she to hers. Or perhaps, a person who could find the courage to coerce you into a chat in the drawing room. A person who could inquire about your interests in ballet over a cup of cocoa. A person who could perhaps say what she had never said in your eighteen years of existence. A person who could finally say “I love you.”

Mom wasn’t quite at the level of Mommy, but it did come with an endless amount of possibilities.


End file.
